


Sticks and Stones

by loves_books



Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 04:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: Face had worked long and hard over the years to earn his reputation, and he was more than fine with the whole thing, though in reality he was nowhere near as big a slut as the rumours had it. He enjoyed sex, and knew he was damn good at it. The name-calling came along with the lifestyle choice, and sticks and stones and all that jazz – Face was a big boy, in more ways than one. He could take it.





	Sticks and Stones

“What the hell happened to you, man?” Face lifted his tanning goggles away as he stared up at Sergeant Bernard ‘Jackie’ Chan in shock. “You get jumped on the way back to your tent last night?”

Chan tried to shrug but immediately winced instead, and Face found himself wincing in sympathy. The other man looked like he’d been run over by a truck then fallen off a cliff before promptly being trampled by a rampaging herd of buffalos. The poor man was sporting a split lip, two black eyes, and a nasty graze on his right cheek, not to mention what looked very much like a hand-shaped bruise on his neck. 

And that was only what was immediately visible – Face dreaded to think what injuries were hiding beneath Chan’s loose t-shirt and combat pants, but from the way the sergeant was moving very carefully and the way he’d limped up to where Face was relaxing by the paddling pool, there were more bruises and cuts at the very least.

“I just…” Chan’s voice was rough and hoarse to Face’s ears, and he paused, swallowing with another wince before carefully clearing his throat. “I wanted to apologise, Lieutenant. For what I said last night.”

“What the – ? Apologise for what?” Face immediately started to wrack his brains, trying to figure out what Chan might be referring to. Nothing sprang to mind, though admittedly he’d been pretty drunk by the end of the night, and he was still nursing a reasonably impressive hangover. Couldn’t be important, then, whatever had happened. “Hey, it’s all good. Forget it, whatever it is – I won all your money, not to mention your Batman special number 34, so I figure we’re more than even.”

Murdock was over the moon with the comic, naturally, though Face was still working on getting the bootleg MMA DVDs BA was after. He’d get there, sooner or later, as he always did; there was another highly-unofficial poker game planned for tomorrow night, and he had his sights set on Major James, who had let slip in the showers that he was expecting a package from home.

Chan shuffled awkwardly where he stood on the other side of the pool, clearly trying and failing to find a comfortable position that didn’t hurt his battered body, and shook his head. “No, really,” he rasped a little louder. “I’m sorry. I was out of line, and I took it a step too far.”

Face gave up trying to remember, and locked his hands behind his head instead, flexing his biceps as he stretched out his legs in front of him. “Chan, I honestly have no idea what you’re going on about.”

The sergeant’s eyes flicked briefly up and over Face’s shoulder, towards the planning tent where Hannibal was currently working his own special brand of magic.

“When I called you a… you know.” Chan tried to shrug again, and nearly managed it, then mumbled something Face didn’t quite catch as a chopper flew loudly overhead.

“A what?” he asked, raising his voice as he leant forwards, puzzled and starting to feel fairly confused. What had he forgotten about last night? And what the hell had happened to Chan? “Speak up, man.”

“When I called you a man-whore.” Chan shouted the last two words just a fraction too loudly, just in the very moment the chopper noise faded away, and a group of passing corporals cheered loudly in response. Chan cringed, then added, more quietly, “It was a low blow, Face, and I’m sorry.”

Face laughed with a touch of relief, rocking back in his deckchair. “Is that what’s on your mind?” he asked the sergeant. “Hey, that’s nothing. I get called far worse all the time. And let’s face it, it’s not like you don’t have a damn good point!”

Face had worked long and hard over the years to earn his reputation, and he was more than fine with the whole thing, though in reality he was nowhere near as big a slut as the rumours had it. He enjoyed sex, and knew he was damn good at it, so until the one and only person he really wanted took some notice of him at long last, he saw nothing wrong with enjoying himself as long as he played safe and didn’t hurt anyone along the way. The name-calling came along with the lifestyle choice, and sticks and stones and all that jazz – Face was a big boy, in more ways than one. He could take it.

But Chan seemed strangely insistent, and he took a stumbling half-step closer, worryingly close to the edge of the pool, dismissing Face’s protests with a wave of a hand. “Still, I’m really sorry, Face. Please, you have to believe me. I’m sorry.” 

“Okay, man, easy does it.” With an easy shrug and a smile Face gave in. “If it means that much to you then apology accepted, of course. Consider it completely forgiven and totally forgotten.” Who was Face to judge the man’s own sense of morals?

It was clearly the right thing to do, as Chan visibly started to relax, the beginnings of a faint smile hovering on his swollen lips. He nodded before glancing back over towards Hannibal’s planning tent once again, to Face’s surprise. “Would you do me one other favour, Face?” he asked hesitantly. “If it’s not too much to ask? Let Colonel Smith know that I came and apologised?”

“I… sure?” That made no sense at all, but Chan suddenly looked relieved at Face’s easy agreement. As Face watched, the sergeant made a careful turn on the spot before limping away as quickly as he could manage, almost as if he was afraid Face would change his mind, then Chan disappeared into the maze of tents that made up the FOB.

Face slipped his tanning goggles back on almost automatically and settled back completely into his deckchair, his mind racing as he wondered why Chan had seemed so worried about what Hannibal thought, and when he might have been hurt. Chan had definitely been fine when the poker game had broken up late last night, though he and Face had gone their separate ways shortly after. 

Hannibal had been at the game in the earlier part of the night, watching from the corner with his cigar in mouth rather than participating himself, but Face was fairly sure he’d left the tent long before Chan had made his little comment. He wouldn’t have heard the name-calling, surely. But then again, Face had been pretty drunk. Maybe he’d missed something.

Hannibal very definitely didn’t tolerate bullying in any way, shape or form, but he wouldn’t leap to Face’s defence over something so trivial. He’d know that Face could defend himself if he needed to, either with words or with fists, and beyond even that he would know that Face wouldn’t be offended by Chan’s words – ‘man-whore’ really was a pretty mild insult by Ranger standards.

Unless.

Face sat up abruptly, the tanning goggles falling to the sand and immediately forgotten as his heart lurched in his chest. He spun round as best he could in the collapsible canvas deckchair, only to see Hannibal himself standing in the open flap of the planning tent, his piercing blue eyes locked on Face. There was a look of naked desire visible for just a second before a blank mask slammed back down into place, hiding Hannibal’s true feelings from view as the colonel turned abruptly away.

Oh, Face thought to himself with a grin. Finally.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following brilliant prompt from Indigo_Angels:
> 
> Face is used to people making disparaging comments about his active sex-life and he doesn't let it bother him. But Hannibal goes ballistic when he hears some people describing his Lieutenant as a whore. Hannibal kicks butt (actually or metaphorically) and Face is left aghast, wondering why the boss cares that much...


End file.
